TGI...NAFMA...

That's "Thank Goodness It's Not A Full Moon Anymore."

Because, even if the full moon was not the cause of all of my troubles from the past few days, the analytical, problem-finder/solver in me needs an explanation. And lunar influence is all I've come up with.

Wednesday was one of the worst mommy days I've ever had. It made me think about dusting off my Mommy Resignation Letter. My friend Hope, who experienced part of the crazy day with me, said she wanted me to write about it. While I will try to share with you the sequence of events from that terrible day, I am not sure if I am ready to blog about it, at least not without accidentally using a teensy bit of language more fitting a sailor's blog than a mommy's.

Let's just say that everyone woke up crabby. Then, getting out of the house & to meet a friend and ride together to a Mary K party almost took an act of congress. Hubs & I were gripey with each other. I couldn't find my keys. Something smelly (milk?) had spilled in the diaper bag, and I had to find a substitute and switch everything over. I somehow set off the car alarm in my own garage. When we finally pulled out of the garage and got down the road, I realized I never had finished printing up those directions...

Apparently, things were equally crazy on the other end too, since I got a text message saying they'd be late meeting us due to crazy kid behavior. It was only 9:30 and already almost laughable. Then things went from sorta bad to much, much worse.

The party was a great idea- in theory. Those of us mommies who never seem to have a free weeknight were going to get together with our kids in tow. They could play together and we could sample some pampering products and collectively watch them... watch them hurt themselves, that is. And throw massive fits. My poor friend's little guy B got hurt on two separate occasions, the second of which required leaving to go to the doctor for three stitches. And not long after, since we had drawn the party out way past lunch/naptime, most of the remaining children began to unravel.

I found myself in the middle of a classic Big Sister meltdown- in the middle of a living room full of other mommies & kids. It started simply enough- Little Sis was trying to take something from her & she responded by hitting her with it. I took a deep breath and just told her that I might have to hold the coveted toy/source-of-conflict for a few minutes until Big Sister apologized.

Cue screaming. And lots of "NO." And kicking & trying to claw my eyeballs out as I dragged her to the stairs to sit in time out. When she wouldn't sit on the steps, I actually put her in the small bathroom near the bottom of the stairway- which, by the way, was very dark. Muah ha ha. She hated it and decided quite quickly that the stairs were a better option.

Of course, Little sister never leaves Big Sister alone during time out, so at one point I was standing over Little Sister while she rolled on the floor having a tiny tantrum of her own because I wouldn't let her bother Big Sister, who was in time out for her ongoing gigantic fit.

We finally got everyone settled down & out the door, and I am sure our wonderful hostess mommy was glad to see us go. I had to drop Hope & her little guy off at their car which we left that morning at the mall. So we decided to try to feed the kids Chikfila before heading home. Have you have tried to carry a tray (with drinks) while pushing a double stroller? Mark another tally on the frustration chart. Or make that two- because in the madness, I put my credit card somewhere out of the ordinary and didn't find it until today.

Other than crankiness from Little Sister, the meal at the mall was actually not that bad. And she fell asleep on the way home, so things were looking up. But then she woke up a few minutes later, right after I helped Big Sister lay down to rest. I spent the next forty-five minutes trying to get her to go back to sleep (or eventually, just trying to get her to stop crying, and scratching, and headbutting- I guess she was over-tired but determined not to sleep). I was almost successful, too. Until Big Sister started calling for me from the next room.

What could be such a big emergency, that my darling, independent Big Sister would need me so badly that she would break a BIG naptime rule? She had to poop. She failed to remember that, at four, she can GO TO THE BATHROOM BY HERSELF, and she failed to hear me when I stuck my head out the door and angrily whispered a reminder of this fact. In fact, she failed a lot of things, because the calling got louder, and the words changed. They were words that should not have surprised me on a day like this, but they did nonetheless: "I had an accident."

Dear reader, will you judge me too harshly if I tell you I LOST IT? If so, go ahead and get your narrowed-eyes and pointer fingers ready. Because I couldn't take it anymore. I yelled. I pitched a mommy-fit of my own. I told Big Sister that she needed to take care of the mess herself because I didn't want to. That I just didn't think it was fair anymore that she (and Little Sister, too, apparently) could scratch and scream and disobey me and then expect me to happily wipe their bottoms (and wherever else needed to be wiped at this point...) I screamed ahem, shared my frustrations about how she KNEW not to call out during naptime, and how any chance of getting her sister to go back to sleep (and of me getting five minutes to regroup) was now shot to... well... the very thing I was still angrily not accepting that I had to clean up.

Then I looked in the bathroom mirror and saw myself. Red-faced, crazy-eyed, with one strand of hair dangling where it had escaped my ponytail during my temper tantrum. Possibly in an attempt to flee. Because I was, in that instant, "scary mom." Like, almost "no more wire hangers" scary.

So I took those five minutes to regroup. I left Big Sister on the potty and Little Sister screaming in her crib. I went into my room and I sat on my bed and I punched stuff took a deep breath and said a prayer for the fruits of the spirit. Or really just, you know, for help.

I went back to the hall bathroom and explained why I didn't want to deal with anything else gross- because the way I had been treated by Big Sis all week was disgusting enough. I told her that sometimes it hurts my feelings (and unfortunately, even my body) enough that I don't want to deal with it anymore. And that, since I was their mommy and I loved them so much, I would never really quit, but that sometimes Big Sis needed to realize that I have feelings too. And that I can reach my limit and (gasp) lose control too.

I asked her if she could think about all of the times I remind her to "get back under control" when things make her frustrated or angry or sad. And then I told her that all day I had been saying that too myself. And not just that day, but every day, when things- and definitely not just children- frustrate me or hurt me, I have to take deep breaths or count to ten or remind myself to calm down. But that for a split second there, I couldn't do it anymore. And I failed. And I was sorry.

Then I cleaned up poop and went back to the crying toddler. Big Sis was already supposed to be confined to her room because of her previous behavior at the party, but Little Sister was not going to give me a break. So, for those of you keeping a judgement list, I did another bad mommy thing- I put her in the pack and play in front of the television and turned on Elmo's World. Then I went to check the mail for a few seconds of fresh air.

And some pet therapy. See, we've been having a feline visitor every day- a tiny tabby, more like a kitten than a cat. She is hungry, and I started feeding her (and gave her a little towel in a box in case she had no where warm to sleep). But more than that, she is starved for attention. When I go on the porch and sit down, she is immediately in my lap, rubbing her little kitty chin on my arms, kneading her paws into my legs, purring like a lawnmower. She doesn't need me to do anything. She doesn't argue with me. And she is always glad to see me. That day, I needed that.

Of course, there really is no rest for the weary. When I went back in, this is what I found:

That is Little Sister, holding her diaper. The one she was wearing when I walked outside. (Those of you still reading to judge me- if you don't have enough dirt already- I did at least take the pic from an angle that didn't show anything sketchy.) Thankfully (and on that day, surprisingly) she did not leave me anything else to clean up. I still had to type a letter for church that evening, though, and I didn't see time for that in the near future. Speaking of church, did I mention that in an hour I was going to get to drop my kids off at the nursery? Only to then be in charge of 40 grade-school aged kids in choir? It was the day that would never stop...

But it did. I went to bed almost right after the girls did- I couldn't process anything to post on my blog. I could only update my facebook status to let everyone know that I was stuffing my feelings with Halloween Candy... and then go upstairs to read (everything is less real when you're in Forks) and sleep. Hard.

The next day was a little better. I still couldn't shake my disappointment at how easily frustrated I was. And when my girls were at school, I honestly didn't miss them as much as I usually do. I had some time alone, but I had to get the house ready for a surprise visit from the in-laws. I was still desperate for a real break. I tried to be thankful- I know so many mommies, both in the blog world and in real life, who have very sick little ones or other serious things happening in their lives. Even my friend's little guy, B, had those three stitches. My kids just had tantrums.

But the more I tried to remind myself how I should have felt, I felt more upset with myself for not being able to feel it. Only now am I realizing this must be more than just bad days- I'm seriously wondering if the side effects involving Mirena that I've read about online are as big a factor in my life as the moon or moody girls. I also started reading a book last night (after I took a super hot shower and cried and prayed) called Wanting All the Right Things. One of the very first sentences talked about this generation of moms having such a hard time trying to be everything and how it leaves us feeling frustrated and angry. Wow.

I also realized yesterday that I've (always, of course) got some things to work on in my relationship with God. I actually sought out a minute to seek comfort from a cat who only seemed to love me unconditionally rather than seeking comfort in the face of my Creator who absolutely does. I'm trying to figure out why and how to change that. Pray for me.

But today is Friday, two days since the worst Mommy day in recent history. We have had some tantrums, but overall it has been a very nice day. We took the in-laws with us on a trip up the mountain to get our Fall photos.


I'll try to post them tomorrow. Right now I am still processing- looking back on the past few weeks of tension and exhaustion in our lives and trying to see the blessings in disguise. Like the lady who helped me carry my tray at Chikfila at the mall. Or the mom friends who smiled encouragingly and knowingly as we supported each other and dealt with cuts & stitches, fits and whatever else. And this time to blog, to spill my emotions and hopefully share something that helps some other mom feel a little less alone in her struggles- or at least find out that I'm not alone in mine. So, if you've hung in for this whole looong post, thanks.

I feel a little better now.